Just like that daintily wrapped, pseudo-gourmet brie stocked on the Safeway shelf near the Kraft Singles and shredded cheddar, Tahiti 80's creamy, dreamy delicacies are manufactured for easy export. Xavier Boyer and his gang of merry Parisians embody that quintessentially Gallic combination of élan and ennui, vigor and boredom-- those seemingly antithetical traits the French can so easily capture with the slightest Gauloises-punctuated gesture or well-placed Camus quotation. With A Piece of Sunshine, Tahiti 80 masterfully temper their continental contradictions with tender melodrama and songs sung in surprisingly facile English, turning out a sophisticated, trans-Atlantic paean in the universal language of pop.
Their third outing on Chicago's Francophilic imprint Minty Fresh finds Tahiti 80 at their most succinct and confident. Here, they've trimmed the psychedelic pomp from last year's Wallpaper for the Soul to reveal a radiant core of impeccable songwriting and elevated arrangements. Even in its gel-capped accessibility, the album remains complex and absorbing, a gorgeous, multifaceted jewel of acid-washed guitars, glittery horn flourishes, and frayed electronic texture.
While Tahiti 80 are certainly beholden to the great bubblegum symphony conductors like Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks, their streamlined packaging and electronic frills also resemble FM radio champs like The Cardigans and The Beautiful South. The whistled melody that bisects "Listen"'s jangled guitar and sweeping Mellotron matches the sober theme of Boyer's lyrics: "It's easy to think you are special/ Simple to find out after all/ You're just like anybody else/ That's all." The brooding "Aftermath" hints at anxious foreboding, its minor-key pedal steel and glitchy, space-rock effects hinting at some looming depression the song's gilded chorus keeps at bay, while the folk-funk of "Don't Misunderstand" segues from gentle acoustic strumming into a lush electronic crunch, a duality that's presented effortlessly and effectively.
In a culture where all art is high art-- from Herbie the Love Bug and Jerry Lewis to Manu Chao and Daft Punk-- where Serge Gainsbourg's biggest multi-platinum hit was straightfacedly titled (translated from the idiomatic, idiosyncratic French) "I Love You... Me Neither", turning seemingly standard radio-friendly histrionics into pop perfection comes rather easily. To wit: Sunshine's peak moment, the inexplicably titled "Antonelli." At precisely three minutes, five seconds of undeniable glory, the song rises halfway through this underlong album and stands out like a monument. "Antonelli" features Tahiti 80's brilliantly precise blending of diffuse pop elements: grandiose horn parts, grinding electronic bass, sonorous drums, echoing guitar, all wrapped up in shimmering, airtight production. It's a soaring, fully realized instrumental pop anthem that wouldn't be out of place standing next to Stereolab at their most ambitious or The Flaming Lips at their most sober.
When the album finally closes with "In My Arms", a bittersweet acoustic ballad, we're ready for a comedown. Even at a mere 25 minutes long (barely qualifying it as an EP in some circles) A Piece of Sunshine manages to pack in a stunning amount of music. Tahiti 80 cuts off more than just a piece; they lay out the whole damn sunshiney pie on the table and dole out more than enough to share.
